


Martin Puts On a Show

by orphan_account



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Dildos, M/M, Plot What Plot, Solo Martin's hot shit, Voyeurism kind of, anal penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt: Martin's partner (Douglas, Arthur, Diego, OC, whoever you want of either sex) is too tired to have sex, so Martin decides to show him what he's missing. He strokes and fingers himself, uses toys, writhes and gasps and... you know ;) Whether the other person decides to join or is happy just watching Martin enjoy himself is up to the filler~</p><p>Gifted to Cleo since I had her - and her ideas - in mind when writing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Martin Puts On a Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cleo2010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleo2010/gifts).



Martin wasn’t usually hormonal, “in the mood,” or simply very fucking horny. He was usually sweet and cuddly and completely okay with anything Douglas wanted to do. But that evening’s flight had been been eventful and stressed both Martin and Douglas’ patience. Not to mention the captain had insisted on taking the landing, so it was rather rough on both of them. 

So when they flopped onto the bed and Martin, in a fit of horny exuberance, started to kiss Douglas. He groaned, gripping Martin’s shoulders. To his dismay, he pushed the younger male off, eye lashes fluttering with exhaustion. “Not tonight, Martin. It was a terribly tiring day.” 

“But —” Normally he might not protest, but this was hardly normal. He’d never been so horny before. He really wanted to kiss Douglas, and he really, really wanted his cock in his arse. The memories of the roaring ache it left in his backside had Martin in shudders. “Please.” He nuzzles Douglas’ neck, who grunted and pushed him off. 

“I’m going to sleep. Have yourself a wank if you’re really that desperate.” Douglas was too tired to argue with the smaller man, so he closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction when he felt Martin shift away from him. A huff, and then the sound of his zipper coming undone sounded. He heard him pause, then jumped off the bed. Moments later he was back, but Douglas was slipping into sleep by then. 

A soft moan echoed, and Douglas’ eyes snapped open before he could help himself. Martin was opposite to him, feet planted and knees raised as he stroked his hardened cock. His shirt was hiked halfway up his chest, his trousers and pants nowhere to be found. 

“Martin.” The first officer warned. His captain’s eyes, shut in the throes of pleasure, fluttering open. 

“You said ‘have a wank’ if I wanted to. So - ” his breath hitched as his left hand slid over the velvety skin ” - I am.” Martin bit his plump lower lip and slid further down the bed, making his hand into a fist. “Ohh,” he sighed, thrusting his pelvis. Douglas snorted and closed his eyes again, attempting to ignore the sick slide of flesh and Martin’s soft groans. 

The captain pouted, pausing in his ministrations. Douglas was completely ignoring him (or trying to). Martin opened the bottle of lube he’d snatched from the bottom drawer and uncapped it to pour some on his palm. He rubbed them together to warm it up, than began stroking himself in earnest. 

Oh, yes. That felt nice. He let the pleasure bring forth deep, throaty groans that spilled from his mouth as he slipped his hand up and down, changing angles and speeds until he found one that was satisfactory. 

Martin imagined it was Douglas’ hand gripping him, strong and insistent. He never brought himself off this way with his own hand, but Douglas always gripped the base firmly and pulled with swift, sure strokes that jerked him swiftly towards completion. Martin did that now, moaning his name. 

“Hhn, Dougl—” he gasped as he paused to rub the sensitive glans. His lower lip was chewed ragged and glistened, swollen and red. 

When he opened his eyes and swiped his tongue over his upper lip, Douglas was staring straight at him. Now that he had his attention, Martin slowed his hand and reached again for the lubricant. He poured some onto his fingers, curling them into a fist until only his middle finger was protruding. 

Martin spreads his legs wider and pressed it inside himself, gasping at the intrusion. It was so more obscene when he knew Douglas was watching, waiting. Was he hard? Was he thinking about pushing his enormous cock inside Martin, taking him hard and fast, or maybe sweet and slow? Martin’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he writhed against his own finger, cock twitching with his wild imagination. 

“Douglas, _ohh_ , Douglas.” He was being a _little_ over the top, but it felt good to moan that loud. He allowed his lips to part and released an incredibly lewd sound, hips stilling as he pushed a second finger into himself. He felt especially tight. 

Martin could feel Douglas’ eyes burning holes and he looked at him through lowered lashes. He was completely awake now, but had yet to move. 

He was also rock hard. Martin bit his lip to stifle the rather loud shout that wanted to escape when he pushed in a third finger, stretching the skin uncomfortably. He winced and took deep breaths, focusing on relaxing the tension in his muscles until the burn had subsided into a rather dull ache. He experimentally pushed his fingers deeper, face pinched in concentration, thighs quivering as he reached with his longest finger. 

Then his eyes snapped open and he bucked his hips, a shock shout echoing as pleasure shot up his spine. Douglas looked worried for a moment, but then Martin’s face twisted with the familiar expression of pleasured agony. He fucked himself on his fingers in earnest, other hand gripping the sheets, as if he couldn’t stop himself. Each downward push was accompanied by a sharp cry. 

“Oh, God,” he moaned. The sight was absolutely pornographic, and Douglas palmed himself. Martin was absolutely beautiful when he let himself go; his face hung slack, swollen lips parted, and he writhed. It was a deliciously grotesque sight to witness, one that was slowly driving Douglas mad. He didn’t dare move and break that look on Martin’s face.

Then Martin had to start talking. 

“God Douglas. It’s…it’s so b-big.” The word was half a moan “But not enough; it’s not as big as you.” He threw his head back and keened, struggling to add a forth finger. “Douglas! O-oh. You’d stretch me—so enormous. Would feel s-so good.” He was fucking himself with four now, wanton and covered in sweat. “Douglas!” he shouted, bumping his prostate rather hard. 

Martin slipped his hand around the base of his penis and squeezed, trying to prolong the inevitable. Pre-come, pearling at the top slipped continuously down the side, drenching his hand in no time. Douglas had by now reached into his pants and was stroking himself slowly, pleasure curling and purring at the sight before him. It would be wet dream material for weeks. 

Douglas shuddered at the same time Martin moaned shamelessly and reached for something—Jesus.

He was holding a large dildo, just about as big as Douglas was. He might have wondered where he got that, except then Martin was inserting it inside himself, eyes fluttering closed. He bit his lip, pushing until it was fully seated, and then he moved. A strangled, choked sound came from Martin as he fucked himself on the toy, arching his back in toe-curling pleasure. His cock twitched and bobbed, a trail of sticky fluid dripping onto his stomach. He wouldn’t last long and Jesus Christ, neither would Douglas. 

“God! Douglas! It’s so big, feels just like you. Except not—” another strangled, breathy moan “—not as warm. I love it when you pound into me. It’s so-so hot and—” Chest heaving and _so close_ , Martin moved onto his hands and knees, taking a long moment to bare down on the toy inside of him. Then Martin was reaching behind him, displaying his heaving front as he pulled the toy in and out, expression morphing into unadulterated pleasure. 

Douglas nearly came, prick twitching with pre-orgasmic spasms. He might have been jealous of the toy, had not Martin been looking right at him, calling his name, words slurring together into incoherent nothings. His wrist ached with he speed in which he brought himself towards orgasm. Martin wasn’t making it easy. If he got Carpel Tunnel, he could blame the pilot.

“Douglas! Douglas! Douglas!” He couldn’t stop himself; it was rather embarrassing. Martin slammed against his prostate a few more times and then arched, hips convulsing as his intense, white-hot orgasm ripped through him. His first officer’s’ name, slurred and broken rolled off the tip of tongue as he soiled their the duvet, collapsing only moments later. He was completely limp and bone-tired. He hadn’t expected it to feel so…intense. His heart was still hammering. 

Douglas touched his warm cheek affectionately, but his expression was sly.

“I won’t be too tired tomorrow, you know.”


End file.
